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Published: July 15th 2010
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Sitting over breakfast during our last day in Nelspruit we were planning a hike in a nearby canyon, however the added weight of the previous day’s acquisitions had put a bit of a damper on our camping ambitions - after all that anguish of trying to find the right gear. What to do? At the local tourist information office we had seen some brochures on Mozambique, so before we knew it we were sitting on the Cheetah Express minibus that afternoon headed for the border. Alright, so it wasn’t as easy as all that. First we had to organise some accommodation in Maputo, knowing that we would arrive late that night, convince the Cheetah Express driver to wait for us at the border to get our Mozambiquean visas, as our last minute decision meant that we couldn’t organise them in advance, and finally find a pharmacy that would dispense malaria medication without prescription. During a phonecall earlier in the day, my dad had informed me that my cousin, who had also visited South Africa for the world cup, was lying in hospital back in Germany with the disease. It reminded Kam and I that we had to this point failed to
get the necessary prophylaxis. Getting the medication without prescription proved easier than first thought. We were able to stock up on doxycycline at the first pharmacy we visited. Just as well, as our fellow travellers informed us that even Maputo, Mozambique’s capital, was considered a Malaria zone, and as we later found out it was in fact Mozambique where my cousin had picked up the disease. As it turned out, no one else on the bus had visas either, so we were able to keep each other company as we waited over an hour and a half for the Mozambiquean border officials to stamp our passports.
Two young Aussie medical students, who were travelling with us, after an hour felt that they had waited long enough, pushed through the waiting queue and simply walked beyond the unattended service desk into the office. I’m not sure about you, but I’ve always had a healthy respect for border officials. Hell, I’m a little anxious when I’m getting my passport checked upon re-entry into Australia. These boys however seemingly without a care in the world proceeded to share the beers they had just purchased at the duty free store with the border
officials, whom they had found watching TV. After changing the channel to the world cup and getting a score update on the latest game they had a quick photo session with the diligent public servants and a little while later re-emerged with their stamped passports. Our passports soon followed suit and we packed back into our minivan and were on our way to Maputo. The atmosphere on the bus was filled with anticipation and excitement. Crossing the border in the middle of the night aboard a crowded minibus with other backpackers, telling tales of the places they had already visited, the travelbug was starting to sink its teeth into us once again.
We spent our first couple of nights staying in a dorm room, where Kam had to reacquaint herself with the art of whispering. She had thought her dorm room days were over. All the beds had mosquito nets on them. Our fears had been confirmed. However, ensuring that the net doesn’t touch you, which would render it useless, proved to be a bit tricky. And sure enough Kam had a few bites the next morning. Our first day in Maputo happened to be Mozambique’s Independence Day. The
country was colonised by the Portugese and the first party in government after the country achieved independence in 1975 was socialist, which explained the street names we’d been seeing around the city, Mao Tse Tung, Vladimir Lenine, Karl Marx, etc…. Having walked around exploring the town all morning, it didn't take long before we stopped for seafood and some cold beers at a fancy yacht club. We knew it was fancy, because they charged us $2 entry each.
The weather was so good we decided to head to Tofo, a beachside village north of Maputo. At a distance of about 370 kms, it took us over 7 hours to get there, thanks to the excellent Mozambique roads. Surrounded by hung-over English backpackers, hopping along dirt roads in blistering heat, the drive was an absolute delight, as you can imagine. But, upon arrival, we were rewarded with a lovely beach and were once again able to put our camping gear to good use, which was great except for sand getting into every crevice of our bags. We filled a couple of days relaxing on the beach and watching soccer in the evenings. We also spend a fair bit of time
discussing the contents of our packs and deciding what we could get rid of in order to lighten the load. On the way back to Maputo, we spent a night in another nice seaside town called Inhambane. To get back to Maputo, we decided to give the backpacker bus a miss and instead caught a local bus, which was a much more fun experience. The bus was packed with people, carrying everything from ordinary luggage to sacks of tangerines and cashews, live chickens and big bunches of edible roots.
We spent another couple of days in Maputo, this time camping on the roof of the backpackers we had stayed at before, in order to save some money. Kam felt that to this point we hadn't been living within our means. Apparently having bacon and eggs for breakfast every morning did not fit our budget, as she informed me. The weather was miserable so we decided to focus on museums and galleries for a day. Having said that, rainy days have a way of adding atmosphere to crumbling cities like Maputo. We ended our last day in Mozambique checking out the train station and enjoying some more seafood, before hopping
on a night-bus back to Johannesburg.
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gun art
well it depends on the interpretation, guns in way are art, so for that matter everything is art. As always, I like your blogs and the interesting photos. Keep it up and stay save. Lots of love to you two. me